Enter the Black Ghost
by Donny's Boy
Summary: Splinter is dead, April is missing, and the Hamato clan is estranged. It's gonna take a special kind of hero to save the day ... someone who dresses like Johnny Cash but has the soul of Albert Einstein. Mostly Don and Leo centric.
1. Prologue

"Enter the Black Ghost"

By Donny's Boy

Disclaimer: I own neither the characters nor the plot relating to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and I am making no money from this story. I mean no harm.

Warnings: Mature language, violence (no blood or gore, however), and depictions and themes surrounding the issue of euthanasia.

**Prologue**

It happened ten years ago.

The air in the room was hot and still. Stifling, really. It was the middle of summer, and the asphalt above held the sun's heat like an oven. Even though he was sweating, great big drops of perspiration dripping down his arms, Donatello felt cold.

He sat down in the plain wood chair next to the bed. He reached out and, with his large green hand, covered his master's small frail paw. Don looked down and felt like a giant ogre, seeing their hands in contrast.

"It's time," he told Splinter, though he knew the old rat couldn't hear. The ninja master hadn't heard anything for a while now. They got liquids down his throat, they cleaned out his bedpan, and they talked to him near constantly. But through it all, he remained as motionless and unresponsive as the first day of his unconsciousness.

Standing up again, Don stretched his stiff limbs. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table and sighed. He only had ten more minutes before his brothers came back from topside. No more time to put it off. If it was going to be done, it had to be now.

Don fetched a small box he'd brought into Splinter's bedroom. He opened it and took out a syringe. Grimly he smiled, remembering how hard it had been to get hold of such a medical luxury. It had been years ago, and he'd hidden it away for a time of absolute need. But he'd never thought he'd be using it for this.

Next from the box he removed a small vial. He held it up to the candlelight, and the liquid inside the bottle glowed. He plunged in the syringe and filled it, carefully tapping out the air bubbles.

When he reached Splinter's side, he knelt reverently and bowed his head. Then he looked up, at the calm face of his father, who looked peacefully asleep, and he began trembling. He shook so hard, he had to set down the syringe for fear of dropping it. Deep breaths. In, and out. In, and out. He couldn't afford to hyperventilate. He had to control himself.

"You know why I'm doing this, don't you?" he asked Splinter, almost expecting a response. He pushed back the rat's sleeve to reveal a thin arm covered in patchy fur. "I have to, Sensei. I know you don't want to live like this. And we're so low on food right now, and … " No. No more excuses.

He picked the syringe back up and gripped it tightly, knuckles white.

"I love you, Father."

He gently, tenderly, slipped the needle in. As soon as it was in, his hands stopped shaking. He felt oddly calm as he injected poison into his master's withered veins.

"Donny? What're you doing?"

_Damn_. He'd taken too long. They were back.


	2. Dead or Alive

**Chapter 1: Dead or Alive**

Though it had been ten years since then, Michelangelo remembered it like it had only been yesterday. How could he forget? The memories came back to him in pieces, like snapshots in a scrapbook. The yelling and accusations. Leo nearly slicing Don open with a katana while Raph—of all people—held him back. Don just standing there, a blank expression on his face. It was the worst day of Mike's life.

Mike leaned back in his chair, sitting at a desk in April and Casey's farmhouse. He stared at the computer screen in front of him and sighed. The only email in his inbox was one from his old friend, the Silver Sentry. He quickly scanned it. Just some chat about a recent meeting with some other local superheroes—the Armed Avenger, the Black Ghost, Raccoon Girl, and the rest. After shooting off a reply, Mike hit the button to compose a new message.

Another snapshot: Leonardo screaming and struggling against Raph's hold. Screaming that Don was dead to them, was out of the clan. Ordering Don to leave and never return.

Don nodding, understanding the judgment. Accepting the judgment.

Back in the present, Mike's fingers lightly danced across the keyboard. "Hey, Don," he muttered aloud while typing out the words, "I know you're not dead, because I must have sent you a million emails over the last ten years and your inbox never seems to fill up. Which means you're still checking and deleting your emails." He paused, hands hovering over the keys. He realized that it was possible someone else had taken over Don's account and was simply deleting his emails as spam. But he preferred to think it was just Don being stubborn. "You might as well reply, Donny, because I'm going to keep writing to you. I miss you, bro."

He hit the "send" button and looked out the window. The late afternoon sun filtered through the trees, creating a patchwork quilt of dark and light greens on the lawn. It was beautiful, and for some reason the beauty of it just made Mike even sadder.

"We _all_ miss you," he added, though nobody was there to hear. "Even Leo. Especially Leo."

---

Raphael threw a hard punch at the man in front of him. Casey Jones ducked it and stepped back to avoid a second. They were in April and Casey's apartment in the city, sparring while April was out running errands. As they circled each other, responding to each other's movements like dancers in a violent ballet, Casey decided to break the ice.

"So, today's the ten year anniversary, huh?"

Grunting, Raph kicked out and connected with Casey's abdomen. His dark eyes flashed angrily. "Looks like."

Casey staggered back. "You hear from him?" he asked, taking a swipe at the side of Raph's head and just missing.

"Sensei? Nah. He's dead, y'know."

"You know who I mean, wiseass."

The turtle did a back-flip, placing himself out of Casey's reach. "No," he said finally, "I ain't heard from him. And I really don't care if I do."

"That's bull." Casey rushed forward and tackled Raph. As Raph struggled to break the hold, the man's deep blue eyes stared down with concern. "You miss Donny," Casey added, almost as an afterthought.

"Like hell I do. I hope he's dead." Raph pushed Casey off and stalked away.

Apparently sparring was over. Served Casey right, though, for trying to talk during it. Casey followed as Raph walked into the kitchen and poured a glass of water. "I think yer lying," said Casey calmly.

"It's a free country. Think whatever you want." Raph downed his water in one long swallow, then slammed the glass down on the counter. "But you got the wrong guy, Casey. It's Mikey who keeps hopin' that Don's gonna come strolling back into our lives someday. It's Mikey who _wants_ him to. Not me."

Wisely refraining from comment, Casey poured a glass of water for himself and then refilled Raph's glass. They took their water and sat at the table. They drank in silence for a while before Casey asked in an unusually subdued tone, "Think he's still alive?"

Raph looked out the apartment window, thinking it over. Don had been a lot of things, but "natural born fighter" wasn't one of them. "Not a chance," he said, taking a sip of water.

---

Sitting in the lotus position, Leonardo shut his eyes and tried to keep his breathing deep and even. He tried even harder to shut down his mind. The meditation candles threw flickering shadows onto the walls of the lair. Meditating had always come easily to him, but not so after Master Splinter's death. After that terrible day, nothing could empty Leo's all-too-full mind.

He thought about Donatello and wondered where he was. If he was well. If he was even alive.

Leo sighed and tried again to force his brother out of his thoughts. A completely futile effort, of course. Reluctantly he opened his eyes, giving up meditation for the moment. The problem was, he reflected, that while he hated Donatello, some small scrap of him still loved Don too. Every time he remembered Don with the syringe and felt the rage bubble up, suddenly he'd remember something else. The time Don first fixed a toaster. The time Don had his back in a fight with the Foot. Leo would remember how Don's eyes would light up whenever he had an idea or how scared he felt the time Don mutated into a senseless beast.

Shaking his head, Leo stood up and stretched. He didn't know whether it was just because he'd been sitting in one position for too long or he was just getting old, but his arms and legs were stiff as boards. He blew out his candles and headed for the kitchen, thinking bitterly about his ruined meditation.

Leo's mind used to be his greatest asset—his greatest weapon in battle. But that weapon had turned inward, somehow, and now it slashed at Leonardo's very heart.


	3. Missing Persons

**Chapter 2: Missing Persons**

April never returned from her errands.

After four hours of calling her cell phone every ten minutes, Casey went downtown and dutifully filed a missing persons report at the local precinct, even though he knew how useless that would be. When he returned to the apartment, Raphael was pacing the living room like a caged tiger. "What'd they say?" he asked the second Casey was in the door.

"Said they'd keep an eye out. And to call 'em if we heard from kidnappers or anybody else."

"That's such total crap."

Nodding his agreement, Casey dropped heavily into an armchair. "Jesus, Raph. I'm really worried."

Raph kept pacing. "We're gonna have to take care of this one ourselves."

"I know that. I just don't know _how_ we're gonna take care of it."

---

Mike set down the phone receiver and immediately went to the computer. He flicked the monitor on and waited for the system to boot up, drumming his fingers impatiently on the desk. Once it was up, he signed onto his email and typed as quickly as his thick fingers would allow.

_Don! April's missing. Don't know any more than that so far. Need your help. Better come quick. Love, Mike_

He marked the message "urgent" and, with a small prayer, sent it off into the murky void of the internet. Then he shut down the computer and headed for the door.

---

With a final graceful leap, Leo landed silently on the fire escape. He squatted and tapped gently on the window pane. It was Casey who let him in. Once inside, ninja instincts kicked in and Leonardo did a quick once-over of the apartment. He couldn't fail to notice the sai sticking out from Casey's television.

He turned to his human friend. "How long has she been gone?"

"Aw, jeez." Casey ran a shaky hand through his dark, longish hair. "I dunno, Leo. I guess about eight hours now?"

Leo nodded thoughtfully.

Impatient, Raph stormed over. "Well? What's the deal, Fearless?"

Leo rolled his eyes and ignored his brother. Instead he addressed Casey again, asking, "How long until Mikey gets back into town?"

"It's gonna take him a while. At least another several hours," said Casey, biting his lip.

"So we go lookin' for April without him," Raph cut in. "He can catch up with us when he gets here."

"Raph." Leo's voice was gentle. "We can use all the manpower we can get."

Raph crossed his arms over his chest. "So we do nothing? Sit on our butts?"

"No," Leo shot back, "we come up with a plan. Which we will have carefully detailed and ready to put into action for when Mike arrives."

Raph looked ready to argue further, but Casey put a hand on his shoulder. Raph looked up, and Casey slowly shook his head. Sighing the beleaguered sigh of downtrodden younger brothers everywhere, Raph turned back to Leo and gave a curt nod.

---

They'd decided, based on the time-honored principle of _know thine enemy_, to start with some basic surveillance. Raph paired up with Casey, taking the east side of the city, and Mikey paired up with Leo to check out New York's west side.

Silently Mike and Leo leapt across rooftops. Mike felt on edge and not just because April was MIA. It had been months since he'd last seen Leo. Since that fight that had sent Mike packing to live at the farmhouse for a while. Now, back in the city after a longer absence than he'd expected, he didn't know what to say to his eldest brother.

Suddenly Leo skidded to a stop and held up a hand, pointing. Mike stepped beside him, his eyes quickly scanning the area below. Ah. There. A woman in an alley, clutching her purse protectively in front of her, while a half dozen Purple Dragons closed in on her. Mikey glanced at Leo, and Leo gave a single brisk nod.

Time to party.

Leo jumped down, and Mike reached for his nunchucks. The wood felt warm and familiar against his palms. As he leapt down to join his brother, he whipped out the weapons and gave them an experimental spin. He grinned. Just like riding a bike.

Up ahead he saw Leo drop a Dragon with a round-house kick. A second Dragon lifted a baseball bat and aimed for Leo's head, and Mikey rushed forward, knocking the bat out of the goon's hands with a simple flick of his wrist. As the Dragon turned to face this unexpected attacker, Mike's other chuck smashed into his mouth.

Before the unconscious goon even hit the ground, Mike had moved on to the next bad guy. Out of the corner of his eye Mike saw Leo flash him a grateful smile. Before Mike could smile back, he caught a sudden glint of steel and smiled back-flipped onto the lid of a nearby dumpster to avoid a stab from a Dragon with a knife. Leo whirled around and, with a clean sweep of his katana, took out the Dragon. Meanwhile, Mikey jumped off the dumpster and landed a flying kick into the stomach of a fourth Dragon. By the time, Mike looked up, the remaining two gang members were already rounding the corner at a full-out run, desperate to escape.

"Wimps," he called out, laughing. But the laugh died in his throat the second he heard a gun being cocked.

He glanced over at Leo, whose eyes were large and laser-focused. Leo was staring at the woman with the purse, now holding a small pistol, her finger on its trigger.

Mikey's mouth went dry. "Now, lady, we aren't gonna hurt ya," he began softly.

"Shut up, freak," she snapped back in a trembling voice, pointing the gun straight at Leo's plastron. Then there was a flash, and the woman let out a startled shriek—the gun was gone. All three people in the alley (who were still conscious) looked up to where the flash had come from.

A man stood on a nearby fire escape, holding a grappling gun in one hand and the woman's pistol in the other. He was dressed head-to-toe in black: Black pants, black hoodie, long black trench coat. He even wore black gloves—mittens, really—and a featureless black mask covered his face. Mikey felt his heart skip a beat.

The black-clad man pocketed the gun and tossed down a piece of paper. As he did, the woman bolted, and both turtles watched her hasty exit to make sure she didn't have any other weapons. Once they heard her footsteps recede into the distance, Leo and Mike turned back to the now-empty fire escape. The man had vanished like mist into the night air.

"Who _was_ that?" Leo murmured, walking over to where the paper had fallen. Gingerly he picked it up and frowned at what he read.

Mikey grinned. "That, bro," he said in a voice soft with awe, "was the Black Ghost."

---

Author's Notes: Nope, no suicide for Leo—he was just thinking metaphorically. As for what happened to Don … maybe I'll tell, maybe I won't. I'm evil like that. But you will definitely learn what's happened to April. Also, this is the first action scene I've really ever written, so feedback and criticism are especially encouraged.


	4. Enter the Ghost

**Chapter 3: Enter the Ghost**

"So this Ghost guy says he knows where April is?" Casey stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. He frowned darkly. "I don't like it."

Leo sighed and looked down at the paper in his hands. "Me neither."

"Aw, c'mon," said Mike. "The Black Ghost is a superhero! I mean, true, he's no Silver Sentry. But he's definitely one of the good guys."

Raph narrowed his eyes at his younger brother. "So what exactly do you know about this kook?"

"First, he's not a kook," Mike said petulantly. "Second, he's more of a Batman than a Superman. He doesn't have traditional superpowers but does have lots o' gadgets. Like that awesome grappling gun." He grinned and finished, "_James Bond_ would be jealous of this dude."

Meanwhile, Casey was still frowning. "I still don't like it. But I don't think we got any other choice." He jerked his head towards Raph. "We didn't see or hear a thing during our jaunt 'round the city. This is all we got to go on."

Leo shook his head. "Too dangerous. And too big a risk," he said.

"Too big a risk?" Casey sounded incredulous and took a step towards Leo. "This is April we're talkin' about!"

"I understand that, Casey."

"No, Leo, I don't think you do—"

Sighing, Raph and Mike exchanged looks then headed out to the living room. Mike grabbed the remote control, flopped onto the couch, and flipped the television on.

Raph sat down next to him and watched Mike's show for a while. It was terrible, as all Mike's shows were. Then he cleared his throat. "Mikey?" He paused. He shouldn't be meddling, but he had to know. "Why'd you hole up at the farmhouse for so long?"

Mike didn't answer for almost a full minute. "Fight with Leo," he eventually said, unusually terse.

Raph's eye-ridges shot up. Weakly he joked, "Ain't that more my job?"

Mike didn't laugh. Instead he turned to face Raph. "I told Leo that I've been emailing Don," he explained, "and Leo got mad at me."

"You've been—what?"

But Mike continued as if he hadn't heard, "And then I got mad at Leo. For making Donny leave in the first place." He groaned. "Everything kinda went downhill from there."

"No kidding," Raph said dryly. Then he bit his lip. "So, uh … has Donny ever emailed you back?"

Looking down, Mike shook his head. They both sighed.

After a moment silence, Leo strode into the room and stood in front of the television. "Get ready," he ordered. There was steel in his voice and in his eyes. "This Ghost guy said to meet him at three o'clock tonight, so we need to be there absolutely no later than two-thirty to check things out."

Without comment, both Raph and Mikey stood up. From behind, Casey added, "I'm coming too. Ain't getting left behind on this one. Not when we're talkin' about April."

Leo smiled grimly. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

---

Leonardo ducked into the shadows and did what he did best. He waited. This part of the city was almost completely deserted at this hour, and the only thing he could hear was his own heavy breathing. When the cell phone on his belt beeped softly, he grabbed it and pressed the walkie-talkie button. "All clear," Mikey's voice said on the other end.

"Good. Raph?"

"Same here," said Raph.

Leo nodded, though he knew they couldn't see. "Casey?"

"Ain't a soul around, Leo."

Leo nodded again and placed the phone back on his belt. His eyes scanned the narrow alley that the Black Ghost had chosen for their rendezvous. Though he tried never to underestimate a potential enemy, it occurred to Leo that maybe the Ghost wasn't all that smart. This was a terrible location from the Ghost's tactical standpoint. He would be easily closed off, easily surrounded. And that, of course, was just what Leonardo planned to do.

All that was left to do was to wait.

At almost three o'clock exactly, a dark figure appeared at the opposite end of the alley from Leo. Picking up his phone again, Leo whispered, "Everyone see him?"

"Yeah."

"Yup."

"Sure do."

Leo allowed himself a small smile. "Good. Get in position." Silently, slowly, he pulled out a katana and watched the stranger walk towards his position. Another shadow appeared behind the Ghost—that was Mike—and two more hovered on either side—Raph and Casey. The stranger either didn't notice them or was pretending not to, because his approach remained calm and steady.

Once the man was close enough, close enough to see that he was dressed exactly like he had been earlier that evening, Leo stepped out of the shadows and pointed his weapon towards the man. At the same time Mike, Raph, and Casey stepped into the light as well, their respective weapons drawn. The Ghost looked in turn at each of his would-be assailants then turned to Leo. He cocked his head but didn't speak. Apparently he was patient too.

"So, you're the Black Ghost, huh?" Leo asked, katana at the ready.

The Ghost nodded.

Mikey scratched his chin then turned to Raph. "Y'know, I kinda figured he'd be taller or something."

After shooting Mike a glare, Raph took a step forward. "So what's with you?" he said menacingly. "You too good to speak to freaks like us? Or can't ya speak?"

"Yes, I can speak," came a tinny, electronic voice from behind the mask.

"Whoa." Both Mike's eye-ridges shot straight up. "That is _freaky_."

The Ghost chuckled, and the chuckle was just as artificial-sounding as his words. "It's a voice modulator," he explained patiently, almost conversationally. "It masks my voice, just like this—" He pointed to his facial mask. "—masks my face." He gave a small shrug. "I value my anonymity."

"Where is she?" Casey barked. "What have you done with her?"

The Ghost held up his hands in a silent protest of innocence. "I don't have her," he said.

Raph snarled and, gripping his sais tightly, took another step forward. "He's lyin' through his teeth!"

"I _don't_ have her," the masked man repeated, in his strange mechanical voice, "but I do know where she is."

---

As they crept carefully through the warehouse, Raph held a sai to the Ghost's back. "No sudden moves," he warned, pressing the weapon a little deeper into the man's back for emphasis. The Ghost nodded.

"How do you know she's here?" asked Leo, tense, straining to see in the dark.

The Ghost shrugged. "That's not important. What's important is that I know."

Casey growled low in his throat. "It's important to _us_, asshole."

"Quiet!" muttered Mike, eyes darting back and forth. "I think I hear somebody."

Raphael leaned in close to his hostage and, bringing his lips close to where he guessed the Ghost's ear would be, hissed furiously, "If you set us up, you're dead. You are _dead_, ya hear me?"

"I didn't," the Ghost replied, adding, "but I wouldn't be surprised if this is, indeed, a trap." He turned his head slightly, and Raph shivered at the dark-tinted lenses in the mask, which created a void where the man's eyes should have been. "In certain circles, it's no secret that you're connected to April O'Neil. Hasn't been for a long time. I don't think it's a coincidence that she, of all people, was kidnapped."

"Y'know, that does make sense," Mikey whispered.

Raph groaned. "Oh, shut up. Mikey, I swear that—" He cut off as, suddenly, the entire warehouse was flooded with bright fluorescent lights.

Ambush.

As a swarm of Purple Dragon members appeared from seemingly nowhere, the quartet assumed their battle positions. Scowling, Raph glanced over at the Ghost, who held his grappling gun at the ready, as well as another unidentifiable weapon. There was no way they could fight the Dragons _and_ keep an eye on this so-called superhero. They'd just have to trust him—for the time being.

Raphael struck the first blow. His sai flashed in the harsh industrial lights as it caught a Dragon across the chin, sending the punk slamming backwards into three of his comrades. While Mikey did an intricate series of leaps and back-flips to confound his adversaries, Leo swooped in to mow the confused Dragons down with his swords.

A small distance away, Casey and the Black Ghost fought back to back. Screaming incoherently, Casey swung a golf club, keeping the punks a respectful distance out of its reach. Meanwhile, the Ghost lashed out with his weapon—a taser, as it turned out—and, with quick bursts of electrical discharge, dropped his opponents to the floor.

Then, over the chaos of the fighting, everyone heard a shrill whistle. All the Dragons that were still standing took a step back and looked towards the whistle. The turtles, Casey, and the Ghost looked too. A tall and heavily-tattooed Dragon, presumably the head of this local branch of the gang, stood on top of some crates. His arm was around April's shoulders, and a gun was pressed to her temple. Even from a distance they could see the terrified look on her face.

"April," Casey said under his breath. There was nothing else to be said.

With a strange noise that might have been a growl, the Ghost lifted his grappling gun, but before he could get off a shot, the head Dragon shouted, "Not so fast! Drop your gun, or she dies."

The Ghost hesitated. Raph wished, yet again, that he could see into the strange man's eyes.

"C'mon, Ghost," whispered Mikey, voice pleading. "Don't be stupid!"

The grappling gun clattered loudly to the floor, and the Ghost's shoulders slumped in defeat. Everyone heard Casey loudly exhale.

"And the rest of you," the Dragon said, nodding towards Casey and the turtles, "drop your gear too. Now."

More clanging, as steel and wood was tossed to the floor.

"Good, good, good." The Dragon laughed a little. Then he glared at his minions. "What are you just standing there for? Grab 'em!"

The Purple Dragons stepped forward, acting as one, and surrounded the quartet. As two of the larger gang members roughly grabbed his arms, Raphael glanced towards April and caught her mouth the words "I'm sorry."

---

Author's Notes: So many questions … Was this a set-up? Whose side is the Ghost really on? What will the Dragons do with their prisoners? Tune in next week, same time, same channel … Bwa ha ha ha! Also, next chapter the Ghost's mask comes off, by the way.


	5. Unmasked and Unarmed

**Chapter 4: Unmasked and Unarmed**

The head Dragon grinned like a kid on Christmas morning. He handed the O'Neil woman over to his second-in-command and strolled over to his new hostages, who were held down tightly by three Dragons each. He glanced at the turtles, and the grin slipped a bit. "Only three? Aren't there supposed to be four? Bishop won't like that."

Leo, Raph, and Mikey exchanged nervous glances. Bishop?

But the Dragon had already recovered his grin. He stepped towards the Ghost. "Well, well! Aren't _you_ an unexpected little bonus?" he said, all but licking his lips in delight. He smirked. "So, the Black Ghost goes down because of a woman." He spat, and the glob of spittle slowly trickled down the Ghost's expressionless mask. "You're pathetic."

The Ghost said nothing.

The Dragon continued, "The only reason I haven't slit your throat already is because Bishop promised us a lot of money to bring all of you in alive." He laughed nastily. "But Bishop didn't say nothing about you, Ghost. Or about us having some …fun." With that he punched his captive in the stomach, and the Ghost stumbled and fell to his knees.

Mikey struggled momentarily to break free, and Raph glared daggers. But this only seemed to amuse the Dragons more.

"Relax, boys. We're just getting started," the lead Dragon informed them, still smirking. Then he turned and delivered a vicious kick to the Ghost's head. As the Ghost let out a groan, the Dragon grabbed him by his hood and pulled him back to his feet. "So who wants to see what's behind the mask? Whaddaya say, Purple Dragons? Wanna see his mild-mannered alter-ego?"

The gang laughed.

"Bet he's ugly."

"Wonder if he's really an alien, like Bishop thinks."

"Who cares? Take the mask off!"

"Yeah! Take it off!"

"Sounds like it's unanimous," chuckled the head Dragon. With both hands he held onto the Ghost's shoulders and turned the man towards Casey and the turtles. "Time to say hello to your fallen hero!"

One of the head Dragon's flunkies stepped forward and tore away the hood, while a second Dragon ripped off the mask. At the sudden influx of bright light, the Ghost blinked rapidly. His pupils shrank down to pinpricks and, after a moment to adjust, his brown eyes slowly scanned the room. They landed on April and stayed there.

She stared back at him.

The head Dragon slapped his knee, laughing again. "If that don't beat all!" Then he noticed a piece of electronics around the Ghost's throat and grew serious. Pointing, he asked, "What's that?"

"Voice modulator." The Ghost's eyes moved from April to the Dragon. "It's why I sound like this—like a robot."

The Dragon nodded towards the girl who'd ripped off the mask. "Get rid of that. I wanna hear what this punk really sounds like." After she'd done as he asked, the Dragon leaned in close and squinted. "So, which one are you, anyways?"

Speaking a bit hesitantly, as he was long unaccustomed to his natural voice, the Black Ghost replied, "My name is Hamato Donatello."

---

Leonardo stared straight ahead into the dark. His wrists already ached from where he was shackled to the wall. He tugged on the restraints experimentally, but they were almost molded to an exact fit. Not to mention electronically locked with a computer-based override. There was no way brute force could free him.

Though he didn't know how they were going to get out of this, or even if they were going to get out of this, he did know exactly whose fault this was. In a low dangerous voice he muttered, "You should never have come back."

"It's my fault, bro," interrupted Mike quickly. "I'm the one who emailed Don and asked him to come."

Leo ignored his youngest brother. "Not to mention," he continued, "the absolute _nerve_ you have, to call yourself a Hamato after what you—"

"Leo, stop it." April's voice cut like a knife through the stagnant air of their cell.

He snorted and felt his temper flare. "No need to get upset, April. I just want to hear what the Boy Wonder has to say for himself." He glanced over at Don, who remained infuriatingly impassive. "So, Ghost, any last words before Bishop comes to finish us off? Any confessions? Wanna tell us how it felt to _murder_ your own father?"

Raph interrupted this time: "Dammit, Leo!"

But before Raph could get any farther, Don let out a triumphant crow. "Got it!"

A small hissing noise followed, and Don's shackles popped open. Turning to Leo, Don held up a tiny screwdriver, which he'd squirreled away god-knows-where, and grinned that cocky little grin of his. He quickly moved over to where Leo remained shackled and began working on Leo's restraints. He was so close, Leo could smell his breath. "Took me a while to find the right wires to cut," Don explained apologetically.

Silently Leo glared.

Don glanced up and continued, "I know you hate me. And I probably deserve it. That said … " Don nodded towards the others before continuing. "You don't have time to hate me right now. Let's get everyone out of here, then you can hate me all you want. Deal?" And with that, Don flicked his wrist, cutting a final wire, and stepped back.

Leo pulled his hands free and tenderly rubbed his bruised wrists. He could feel everyone's eyes on him, anxious, expectant. "Deal," he said grudgingly, turning to guard the cell door while Don moved over to work on Casey's shackles.

---

"It smells in here," Mikey complained.

Raph rolled his eyes but kept crawling. "That's 'cause it's a ventilation shaft, dummy." He sniffed the air and crinkled his beak in disgust. "God knows what's crawled up here to die."

"Hopefully not us," Casey joked.

From behind him, April muttered, "Very funny."

Then they heard it—a loud piercing siren, wailing through the halls below them. Followed by shouting and the stomping of multiple pairs of boots. In the ventilation shaft no one moved a muscle.

"Well," whispered Don, "I guess they found out that we escaped."

Raph snorted. "Thanks for the newsflash, genius."

Up at the front of the group, Leo looked over his shoulder. "Don? How long until they find us?"

"Oh, wow." Don sighed and shook his head. "Really hard to say for sure."

"Give us an _estimate_, then." Leo's tone held a slight edge.

Don gulped audibly. "Matter of minutes, Leo," he replied, and the worry was evident in his voice.

"Enough time to get out of the building?"

"Negative."

Leo swore. He turned back around, staring ahead into the dark depths of the shaft, and made his decision. "Then we make our stand," he told them. He crawled forward again, to the next ventilation opening, and quickly pried off the covering.

---

Bullets rained down like hail from an overhead walkway, its stainless steel gleaming in the search lights. As the four ninjas leapt and dodged the lethal shower, they also tried to keep themselves between their human friends and the gunmen. To serve as shields. It didn't help that more soldiers were down on the ground, fighting in hand-to-hand combat.

Meanwhile, from behind the protective wall of green, April stood in front of a large computer terminal, her slender fingers flying across the keyboard. They'd been lucky enough to find themselves in a command room of sorts. Nearby Casey alternated between nervously watching her work, ducking behind a console to avoid the gunfire, and taking swings at the government goons who got too near.

A soldier finally landed a punch, sending Donatello staggering backwards into the terminal, only just missing taking out April. Slightly harried, he glanced up at the computer screen. "Haven't you found an alternate escape route yet?"

"I'm _working_ on it," said April through gritted teeth. Under normal circumstances, she'd be delighted to learn that her old friend was still alive. Under the current circumstances, she was remembering how annoying he could sometimes be.

But before she could say anything else, he'd pushed off and was back in the fray.

Up near the front, Raph threw out his fists in a series of furious, lightning-quick punches. The soldiers crumpled around him. Dodging his pursuers, Mikey leapt and grabbed onto the bottom of the walkway. He hung on for a few moments before letting go, back-flipping onto the head of the nearest goon and tackling him to the ground. Leo rushed forward, smashing shoulder-first into a soldier, and tried to ignore how his hands practically begged to hold his katanas.

"Broke the code!" came the shout from behind.

"About time." Mike rolled his eyes and started backing up. His brothers did the same. "Man, I wish I had my 'chucks right now," he added as an afterthought.

Once they were within earshot of April, she screamed above the gunfire, "I've got a series of access tunnels for us. Just follow me."

Casey glanced at the computer screen to April and back. "Won't they just follow us there too?" he asked and ducked a kick.

"Not if someone stays behind to distract them," said Leo.

Don nodded thoughtfully. "I'll be the one to stay."

Nearby Mike blocked a few punches and shot his brother an incredulous look. "No way," he protested. "We should all stick together. Like always."

"No time to argue," Leo barked out, "so let's get a move on." Without another word, Leo grabbed Mikey's arm and threw him in the direction that April was already heading. Casey quickly followed after, while Raph turned to look at Don.

The other turtle had already charged ahead and was surrounded by soldiers. An arc of blood spurted into the air as one of the walkway gunners finally hit his mark, and Donatello stumbled and fell.

"Raphael!" Raph glanced back to see Leo tugging on his arm. He gave another look Don's way before turning away. As he followed the dark corridor April had led them down, Raphael wondered if Leo's decision to leave Don behind was the act of a dispassionate leader or the act of an avenging son. Or both.

---

Author's Notes: So the identity of the Black Ghost is a surprise to exactly no one, except possibly the characters themselves. But hopefully waiting to see their reactions to the grand revelation provided some of the tension I was aiming for. Thanks, as always, for reading and reviewing!


	6. Enter Bishop

Warnings: Relatively non-graphic depictions of torture.

**Chapter 5: Enter Bishop**

Groggily Donatello tried to lift his head and found that he couldn't. Odd. His eyes opened and, after his vision field flooded with harsh white light, immediately snapped shut again. A pounding began in his left temple. Was this a hangover? It felt like a hangover. But that didn't make sense. He didn't drink.

He could be dead, also. That wasn't an entirely unattractive option. But if he was dead, why did his head hurt so badly? And his shoulder, too, for that matter. Hmm. Maybe fundamentalist Christian theology was correct, and this was hell. That made some sense—certainly one could be damned to hell for killing one's own father.

But what if, to honor your father, you had to kill him? Don couldn't remember that particular problem being addressed. His thoughts began to drift, back into the past.

Maybe if he'd prepared better, he could have made them understand. He'd expected shouting and vehemence, but he hadn't expected it from Leo. If only the situation hadn't deteriorated so rapidly, if he hadn't been banished so quickly, he could have explained …

"My son, you are a healer and a fixer," the old rat had begun, kindly but seriously, those many years ago. "Science and medicine cannot heal all things, however. When it is my time, I wish to die with the dignity of which I have so often been deprived in life."

Frightened, Don had only been able to stare mutely at his master.

"Do you understand, Donatello?"

He'd nodded reluctantly. "Hai, Sensei."

And he had understood, though since that conversation there had been times he wished he hadn't. But he was glad too. It was so little to ask for, and Don was glad he could give it to his father, even given the consequences.

Back in the present, a sharp voice sliced through Don's recollections: "Open your eyes, turtle."

Almost involuntarily Don's eyes shot back open. There was no mistaking that voice. After his eyes adjusted and pale angular face wearing sunglasses appeared before him, Donatello realized with a sinking heart that once again he'd been right. He was definitely in hell.

---

The group stood in the living room, staring down at the carpet.

"Think they followed us?" Mike threw a nervous glance towards the door, and everyone else's eyes followed. No one would have been surprised if government agents burst through right at that moment.

April spoke up. "I don't think so."

"Me neither," said Casey.

"Good." Leo nodded. "At least that's one thing less to worry about. So let's talk about the next immediate worry—how to get Don the hell out of there."

Mike's head whipped around. "You mean that you … " Suddenly he looked away and let his sentence trail off.

_You mean that you _want_ to go back for Don? _ April, and everyone else, heard the words as clearly as if Mikey had spoken them.

Leo stared at his youngest brother, hurt eyes offering a silent reprimand. "You think that I—that Don …" He glanced away. "Jesus, Mike. I know we've had our differences in the past, but I'm not a monster."

While Mike winced, April walked across the room to where Leo stood and placed a gentle hand on his arm. "No one said you were, Leo," she said softly. Then she smiled. "So tell us, what's the plan to get Donny back? We're all ears."

---

"You've been drugged, by the way."

Don squinted at his captor and tried to muster up some anger but failed. It was hard to be angry because it was hard to _think_. Instead he simply followed Bishop's movements with his eyes, as the man attached electrodes to various points on Don's body, which was strapped down to a metal table with heavy leather restraints. The straps were rather unnecessary, because whatever the drugs were more than enough to immobilize him, and it occurred to Don that perhaps the leather straps were more for Bishop's aesthetic pleasure than anything utilitarian.

"The drugs are to ensure your compliance," Bishop continued conversationally, sticking an electrode on Don's upper plastron. Then he noticed the still-oozing gunshot wound on Don's shoulder.

As a small smile stretched across his lips, he touched the wound and, even in his drugged state, Don let out an involuntary grunt at the pain. "Seems that it still stings," the human observed emotionlessly.

Meanwhile, the extra pain caused Don to black out again. Right before he went under, his poor battered brain, like a record skipping its groove, jumped back in time again.

---

Ten years ago, the universe shifted and the world turned upside down. The two quiet, calmer Hamato brothers stood inches from one another, screaming, spittle flying. The two louder, more emotionally-volatile brothers stood to the side, watching in numb shock.

"You _killed_ him!"

"He was next to dead already! He hasn't been conscious in weeks!"

A growl. "He might have woken up, dammit, if you hadn't interfered! Even the almighty Donatello isn't completely infallible."

A firm shake of the head. "Leo, he wasn't _ever_ gonna wake up!"

"Liar!" It was at time point that Leo's hand went for his katana and Raph, jerked from his numbness, leapt forward to pull his oldest brother back. The blade missed Donatello's throat by a matter of centimeters rather than inches.

---

Impatiently, Mike squatted in the sewer tunnel near Bishop's newest building, twirling a 'chuck to while away the time. A few steps ahead Leo stood ram-rod straight and perfectly still, a katana gleaming in the dim light. From behind Mike could hear Raph's occasional frustrated sighs.

As Mike put away the nunchuck so he could fiddle with the uncomfortable wireless headset he was wearing, April's voice suddenly crackled in his ear. "Underground sensors have been deactivated." Mike grinned and brought his 'chuck back out. Then he grabbed the second.

"How are you doing on the sensors in the building?" Leo asked in a hushed voice.

There was a pause and some static. Finally, April replied, "Still working on them, Leo."

Raph snorted in annoyance, and Mike observed in a stage whisper, "If it was Don doin' the hacking, he would _totally_ have all the sensors down by now." Leo turned around to give both his younger brothers a dirty look.

"Them's fighting words," April's voice shot back, which was a perfect blend of laughter and pure granite determination.

---

As Don slowly came to, he realized the pain in his head was only getting worse. When he forced his eyes open, once again the face of Agent Bishop hovered above him.

"I haven't even turned on the electrodes yet," said Bishop, a dark eyebrow cocked in an incongruently prissy fashion. "You're pathetic."

That was the second time in less than a forty-eight hour period that someone had called Don pathetic. What was _up_ with that?

"Let's begin now. Shall we, Mr. Ghost?" Bishop's face disappeared from view, and Donatello could hear footsteps echoing away from him.

Clenching his jaw, Don waited for whatever came next. He tried to think of something peaceful and soothing—tried to "go to his happy place," as Mikey might say. Instead, Don's groping mind dredged up the memory of how he became the Black Ghost.

---

April glared at her computer screen while absent-mindedly blowing a strand of hair from her face. There wasn't much time. After shutting down the one set of sensors, it would only be a matter of minutes before her interference was discovered. She had to get the rest of the sensors down, and it had to be soon.

"Anything I can do to help?"

A small smile came to her lips as she kept pounding away on the keyboard. "Thanks, Casey," she said, "but unless you can magically make me smarter … nope, nothing you can do."

"Naw, 'fraid you're right than I can't make ya smarter. Can't improve on perfection."

April's little smile blossomed into a full-fledged grin. She made a quick mental note that, after Don was back home safe and sound, she was going to propose to the big softie. And if he wasn't a jerk about her being the one to do the question-popping, she'd even let him buy her a ring.

But right now, she had to get to the interior sensors. What on earth could the access code be? She drummed her fingernails on the desk and sighed.

Casey sighed too. "Y'know, I really hate that evil crazy sonofa—"

"Casey! Language."

"What?" Casey sounded hurt. "What you yellin' at me for? It's not like _I'm_ the freak who thinks he's J. Edgar Hoover."

April's jaw fell open, and Casey's expression changed from one of hurt to confusion. Quickly April grabbed her keyboard, typed in "jedgarhoover," and hit the enter key. After a seeming eternity of processing, the computer screen greeted her with the words "access granted."

April letting out a loud whoop of triumph. Then she spun around in her desk chair to face Casey, who still looked baffled. As she grabbed his shirt and pulled him forward for a kiss, she murmured, "Casey Jones, you're a goddamn genius."

---

Five years ago, Donatello sat at his desk, frowning. It was three in the morning, and he'd spent all night working out the snarls in a computer program. His freelance programming work didn't pay well, but it paid enough for a small apartment in a bad part of town. Though in retrospect, the "bad part of town" bit had been lucky in a way. Nobody ever looked at him very closely, even during the rare moments he ventured out during the day, because nobody ever looked at _anyone_ too closely. Wasn't safe to.

On the computer screen was yet another email from Michelangelo. Don had intended to only take a very brief break from programming to check his email, but he found himself staring for minutes on end at Mike's latest missive. Damn him. Why couldn't Mike just let it go? Let _him_ go?

"Help! Oh, God, help!"

Don's head jerked towards the window. Crime wasn't at all uncommon in his neighborhood, but the man's scream sounded unusually close. Biting his lip, Don waited for a few moments to see if sirens would follow. But no sirens did.

Quickly Don went to his bed and swept his hand underneath the frame. In the far back he found the item of his search and pulled out his bo, long-unused. He'd never enjoyed fighting, and the thought of running into his brothers during their nightly vigils was too much for him to bear. And it'd been so easy to justify—after all, didn't his brothers still keep watch over the city?

But as Don reached the window and looked downwards, where a man was being beaten to a pulp, that justification rang hollow in his ears. His reasons for giving up ninjitsu were bullshit, and they had always been bullshit. If Splinter had still been around, he'd be completely ashamed.

Throwing up the window, Don stepped out onto the fire escape with his bo and quickly leapt to the ground, standing between the bloodied man and his attackers. It only took a few sweeps of the long, stout weapon to take out one and to send the other scurrying away. When he turned to look at the man he'd just rescued, Don saw him cowering against the wall, staring with open terror at his rescuer.

"What the hell _are_ you?"

Don didn't reply but merely sighed and stepped back into shadows. For several minutes, the man remained paralyzed, breathing heavily. Then, finally convinced the monster had disappeared, the man stumbled down the street, holding a hurt arm against his chest. Once gone, Donatello climbed back up to his apartment, a decision made.

Clearly he couldn't ignore the cries for help any longer, but he didn't want to be a cause of distress either. Less than a month later, the Black Ghost made his first newspaper headline.

---

The memory was cut off abruptly by the sudden high-pitched whirring of a machine followed by a jolt of electricity shooting through Don's muscle tissue. Only the briefest of screams escaped Don's lungs before the pain caused him to pass out yet again.

Nearby, Agent Bishop allowed himself a small smile. The voltage wasn't terribly high. He'd expected the turtle to remain conscious for longer than this. Then again, the creature _had_ been drugged. All in all, very interesting, very intriguing. He made a note on his clipboard.

Still, Bishop hoped his test subject would live through several more voltage increases before cardiac arrest occurred. Until he captured the rest of these mutants, he had to make this one last for as long as possible.

---

"All sensors are down!"

Leonardo felt his heart skip a beat. According to his own time keeping, he didn't think they had very long before the sensors would be back up. Even worse, while they had a rough idea of where Donatello might be held—thanks to April hacking into the building's computer systems—they didn't know in what condition they'd find him. A badly-injured Don would slow down their escape considerably.

For a moment, Leo considered turning around. The odds were not at all in their favor. Did he really want to risk the lives of his two brothers, as well as his own, for … this? For _him_?

"I repeat, sensors are down." A pause and crackly static. "Can you guys hear me? Please confirm."

Leo could feel the eyes of Raph and Mike burning into him, waiting, hoping, dreading. He knew what Mikey would say about turning around but wondered what Raph would think. Would Raph be angry? Would Raph understand? Maybe Raph even wanted to turn back himself. Maybe.

Clicking on his headset, Leo said, "We hear you loud and clear, April." He let out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding in. "Great work, as always. Thanks."

The problem was the same old problem that always remained. Though he hated Don, he loved him too.

Without saying a word, Leonardo climbed up the ladder that led to Bishop's hideout and quickly opened the hatch that separated the sewer tunnels from the building's basement. Raph and Mike followed silently. Leo could hear audible sighs of relief from both of them.

---

Author's Notes: Thanks so much for the feedback on the action scenes. It's quite appreciated. Another somewhat-cliffhanger here, but next chapter reveals whether Don lives or dies. Minor revision 11/2.


	7. The Belly of the Beast

Warning: Depicted, non-graphic character death.

**Chapter 6: The Belly of the Beast**

"I can't believe we're back in _here_ again."

"Jeez, Mikey, can't you shut yer yap for just one second?"

Ignoring his brothers' whispered argument, Leonardo determinedly continued crawling forward in the ventilation shaft. Oddly their bickering didn't annoy him but actually helped him relax a little. It was familiar, comfortable. Clicking on his headset, Leo said in as soft a voice as possible, "You still tracking us?"

"I sure am," said April. "Can't believe how lucky we were that the trackers Don built into the shell-cells still work after all these years."

From behind Leo, Mikey piped up. "That's our Donny!"

Leo grimaced and decided to ignore Mike's comment. "How's our progress coming along, April?"

There was a pause, while April was presumably checking her maps. "Okay, you should pass two more opening in the shaft, then you'll want the third opening."

"How d'ya know that's the one?" Raph asked, sounding uneasy.

The three turtles heard a sigh, clear as day, over their headsets. "Honestly, I _don't_ know," April replied. "Don's not wearing anything I can use to track him, unfortunately. But the set of rooms I'm directing you towards? They're giving off massive power readings." There was another pause, and when she spoke again, her tone sounded as uneasy as Raph's. "There's definitely something freaky going on in there, and if I was a betting kind of woman, I'd bet that's where we'll find Don."

In front Leonardo stopped crawling, and Mikey ran right into him. "Hey! What's with the holdup, Leo?"

Glancing over his shoulder, Leo held up a finger to shush his loud younger brother. "This is our exit," he whispered and pointed to the ventilation shaft opening.

From behind Mike, Raph grinned, his white teeth glowing ominously in the dark. "Aw right. Let's do it, Leo."

---

With ninja silence, skulking up on a security guard from behind, Raphael effortlessly knocked out the man with a single blow to the face. While Mikey offered Raph a congratulatory high-three, Leo absent-mindedly scanned the hallway for more security.

Absent-mindedly. Ugh. That used to be a word that never would have been applied to Leonardo. But even as he tried to focus on the present, on his mission, he felt worry creep into consciousness from the edges of his mind. He'd always worried—his brothers would perhaps argue it was an essential feature of his character—but it had always been something he could control when he needed to. Not something that controlled him.

Leo felt cold sweat prickle on his arms.

_"It's okay, Leo. Everyone's okay."_

Donatello had always said that, whenever he would catch Leo looking worried after a battle. He'd always say it with a small smile and gentle eyes, and Leo would always smile back. Suddenly Leo felt a wave of sadness wash over him, mixing in bitterly with the already-present worry. He wished Don was here right now to smile and tell him that things would be okay.

"Leo?"

Leo's focus snapped back into place at the sound of Mikey's voice. Blinking, he glanced over to Mike and Raph, who were both giving him an odd look. Leo strode past them, not saying a word, and knelt down next to the unconscious security guard. He ripped the building security card from the man's belt and stood back up. Then he swiped it through a card reader next to the door in front of them. A quiet beep followed, then the doors whooshed open.

Pocketing the security card in his belt, Leo stepped through the doors. A few seconds passed before Leonardo could hear his brothers' footsteps fall in behind him.

---

Raphael glared at the back of his older brother's head. If looks could kill, Leo would be pushing up daisies. Where did Leo get off acting all high and mighty? When it had been Raph who'd taken out the guard? Especially since Leo seemed kind of spacey right now for some reason.

Next to him, Mikey sighed, and Raph glanced over. He wondered if Mike was thinking the same things he was. From in front, Leo muttered, "Quiet, you two."

All right. That was _it_. "Why don't you shut up, Leo? After all, all o' this ain't our fault. It's yours."

Leonardo whipped around so fast that Raph recoiled from pure surprise. Leo's eyes narrowed down to little white slits in his mask. "And just how," he said, voice soft and dangerous, "is this all my fault?"

"You're the one who left Donny behind."

"I had to."

"Like hell."

As Leo took a step forward, Raph angrily stepped forward too. But the truth was, he was just as angry with himself as he was with his brother. He should've said something. Done something. Back when they'd first escaped from this house of horrors … and back when Leo had first ordered Don to leave.

Unbidden, the memory bubbled up of the first time Raph had missed Donatello. At first Raph had agreed with Leo's banishment. Hell, he hadn't just wanted exile, he'd wanted to rip Don's head right off his neck. But less than a month after Splinter's death, Leo had gotten hurt badly in a fight with the Foot. As Mike and Raph dragged him back to the lair, an almost-hysterical Mike whined that he didn't know how to take care of Leo.

Neither did Raph, of course. But once safely at home, Raph didn't have a choice—he rifled through the old medical supplies Don had left behind, grabbed what he thought looked most useful, and sloppily dressed Leonardo's wounds. Within days the wounds became infected, oozing ugly yellow pus. Leo ran a fever and babbled incoherently. For a short while, before Leo's fever finally broke, Raph agonized over he was going to lose yet another family member.

And Raph could remember wondering if that's how Don had felt every time he bandaged someone's cuts or tended to someone's illness. Whether Don had felt that overwhelming sense of fear when he slipped the needle into Sensei's arm.

---

The first major blow-out between Leonardo and Raphael didn't happen until they were around nine or ten, but it had been a doozy. Yelling. Punching. Biting. A young Michelangelo had instinctively cringed at the hostility. He'd huddled in a corner, watching with large scared eyes, until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Startled, he'd looked up and had seen Donatello quietly smiling.

"Wanna come to my room to play some checkers?"

Wiping at his runny nose with his arm, Mikey had nodded. They'd stayed in Don's room, playing checkers, most of the afternoon. And it had been like that ever since, with Don acting as Mike's shield whenever things got too rough, offering up his room as a refuge.

Oh, what Mike wouldn't give to have Don back right at the moment.

The room's many-colored blinking lights cast odd shadows against the cold metal walls and reflected in the angry eyes of Michelangelo's two eldest brothers. Taking a deep breath, Mike stepped in between the two of them and placed a restraining hand on each brother's plastron. Hot fear coursed through him with every pump of his heart.

As Raph and Leo's eyes both widened in outrage, Mike was saved from retaliation by a crackle over the headset and April's voice. "Guys? How're things going?"

For several tense moments, the only sound in the room was heavy breathing. Then Leo cleared his throat. "Things are going pretty well," he told April. "We've gotten a security card and are in one of the inner rooms of the compound."

"Glad to hear it. Just wanted to let you know that sensors are back online, so they'll know your position soon. But your target room is only down the hall."

Leonardo gave a tight nod, though April couldn't see. "We're on it. Leo out." Clicking off the headset, Leo turned and quickly headed down the hall. Raph followed after, grumbling to himself, and Mike let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

---

The only sounds in the large room were the soft scratch of a ballpoint pen against paper and the steady electronic beeping of a heart monitor. Glancing up from his clipboard, Agent Bishop gave his test subject a once-over. Still breathing but still unconscious. He dared not run another voltage trial, though, not for a little while longer at least.

He set down his pen. Then his fingers skimmed over the work counter, to the black mask nearby. Smiling, Bishop gingerly picked it up with both hands and held the mask up to the light. Though he was a scientist and government agent, not a game hunter, he couldn't help thinking of it as a trophy.

Then a sudden alarm tore through the room, echoing wildly off the walls, and Bishop fumbled the mask. His head whipped around towards the door before the mask even hit the linoleum. Intruders. Scowling, he reached for his government-issued gun as he headed towards the hallway.

As soon as he set foot outside the door, he noticed two things simultaneously. First, the two guards he'd posted outside were now on the ground, apparently knocked out, one of them oozing a little bit of blood from a split lip. Second, two sets of strong arms grabbed him by the elbows while something quite sharp pressed against his Adam's apple. Before he could pull the trigger on his gun, a large hand wrapped around his wrist and squeezed hard, all but crushing his bones. The gun dropped from his hand, but Bishop couldn't hear it hit the floor over the clanging of the alarms.

Then a familiar green face appeared, filling Bishop's entire vision field. This one wore a red mask and a nasty-looking grin.

"Where is he, asshole?"

Bishop raised an eyebrow. A second later the sharp weapon pressed a little deeper into the soft skin of his throat, and he gagged.

"Jeez, don't kill him yet! We need to grab Donny first."

They were trying to intimidate him. How foolish. He'd been up against worse than them. Suddenly he was being dragged backwards, into the room with the fourth turtle. The red-wearing turtle grabbed him by the hair and turned his head to face the test subject. "How do we get him outta that Iron Maiden?" he growled.

"I don't see any reason to help you," Bishop replied coolly.

The creature pulled back a little, and his weapon suddenly came into view. It looked a bit like an oversized fork. "I got yer reason right _here_, bud."

Bishop's eyes slowly made their way around the room. The orange-clad turtle was hunched over the examining table, studying its restraints, while the blue-clad turtle stood facing the door, holding two long swords and appearing rather tense.

The one in blue glanced over. "Tell us how to help our brother," he commanded.

Bishop smiled and gave a small shake of his head. These beasts prided themselves on their honor, and they knew as well as he did that they wouldn't harm him. This pompous macho display was really quite ridiculous.

"Last chance," said the blue-masked turtle, glancing over again. When Bishop still didn't respond, he calmly nodded towards the one in red. "Okay, Raph. Go ahead and kill him."

Agent Bishop's eyes went wide, and the last thing he saw was the glint of steel flashing under the harsh laboratory lights.

---

"I don't remember him being this _heavy_."

Head throbbing, Donatello drifted in and out of consciousness, trying to concentrate and identify the voices he was hearing.

"Yeah, well. I don't remember him smelling like burnt leather, neither. Things sure do change, huh?"

Burnt leather? What? That made no sense. Confused, Don decided to try to figure out the weird floating sensation he was feeling.

"Quit complaining. Let's just get him out of here."

"Oh, man. How are we gonna get him down the ladder, Leo?"

Leo. Don knew that name. He tried to remember the context. But before he could place it, there was a sudden jolt followed by a falling sensation. Don landed in water, and his eyes flew open as he instinctively began flailing. Then two shadowy figures leaned forward and hauled him onto his feet, supporting his weight by linking their arms under his elbows.

As his eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, Don realized that he was underground. He coughed and spit out some sewer water while a hand hit him roughly on the back of his shell to help. When he looked back up, Donatello saw three pairs of eerily white eyes gazing down at him with concern. Suddenly full awareness returned, and Don offered his rescuers a shaky smile.

Mikey leaned forward, grinning like a crazed maniac, and happily observed, "You're alive!"

"In a matter of speaking," muttered Don in a hoarse voice, his throat feeling raw.

But Mike just kept grinning. "I knew you were alive, Donny, I always knew. All these years I've known." He paused, and a sudden realization dawned in his eyes. "Whoa. Do you know what this means?"

Shaking his head, Don raised a quizzical eye-ridge.

"It means that the Black Ghost is _my_ brother! How sweet is that?" Then he frowned and added, "Even if you did totally rip off your look and weapons from Turtle Titan."

"Mike," came a quiet voice from behind, and all eyes turned to Leo. He was breathing hard, eyes locked on Don. "We need to get a move on," he said in a matter-of-fact tone. "To put as much distance between us and this building as possible." Something flickered in his eyes—something that betrayed an emotion other than calm. But then Leo's eyes and his voice returned to a study of neutrality as he abruptly turned to Don and asked, "Can you walk?"

Don honestly wasn't sure but replied, "I … I think so. Yes."

"All right. Let's head towards the lair, then." Turning, Leo began briskly walking down the tunnel. He clicked on his headset. "April? We got him."

---

Halfway across the city, April leaned back in her desk chair and let her head slump down to her chest. She hadn't even realized how much tension her neck had been holding in.

"April?"

She smiled at Casey's worried tone and reached up for his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "They've got Don. Thank God."

Casey gave a squeeze in return. Then he stepped behind her chair and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. They remained perfectly still for several long moments, until Casey was startled by something wet falling on his forearm. He spun the desk chair around and frowned in concern upon seeing the tears stream down April's face. He took her face in both hands and began brushing the tears away with his thumbs, until she reached up and took his hands in hers.

"I don't get it," Casey admitted, still wearing a frown. "They got Donny outta there. So why're you cryin'?"

"Casey?"

"Yeah? I'm right here, April. Talk to me."

"Marry me."

---

As Donatello stumbled a bit, Michelangelo caught him by the elbow to steady him. For a moment bile rose in Mike's throat, as he caught a whiff of something faintly smoky. Mike suppressed a shudder and glanced away. Raph had been right. Don _did_ smell like burnt leather.

On Don's other side, Raphael stepped up and took his other elbow, and Mikey shot him a look. But Raph didn't glance over, staring straight ahead with a sort of desperate determination. Don caught Mike's look, however, and gave him a small, grateful smile. They made it down another tunnel or two before Don stopped dead in his tracks, causing both Mike and Raph to lurch forward and almost trip.

Raphael glared. "Hey! What the hell was that all about?"

Not meeting anyone's eyes, Don stared down a nearby tunnel. "This is my stop, I'm afraid," he explained softly. "That tunnel leads to my apartment."

"Your apartment?" Mikey began shaking his head vigorously. "Donny, we're not gonna just—"

"Are you _strong_ enough to make it back home by yourself?" Leonardo had stopped too and was now looking back at his three brothers with that perfectly impenetrable expression that drove Mike nuts. There was an unmistakable note of challenge in Leo's voice, and Mike couldn't help wincing a little.

Don's face tightened up into something hard and slightly cold, but his eyes stayed soft. Sad, even. Still staring down the tunnel, he gave a brief nod. Then without a word or look back, he began slowly down the tunnel. He was still a little unsteady on his feet but didn't seem likely to fall.

Mike took a few steps towards the tunnel, then Raph clapped a hand on Mike's shoulder to keep him from following further. Angrily Mike threw off his brother's hold and stomped over to Leo. "I can't believe," Mike began, sounding more on the verge of tears than angry, "that after all these years, now that we've got him back, you're sending him away. Again!"

Leo shook his head. "Mikey, you gotta understand."

"I do understand!" With a growl of frustration Mike threw his hands in the air. "You think I wasn't pissed at him for doing what he did? Of _course_ I was. We all were, Leo."

"Then you know why I—"

"What I know is that my father is dead, and nothing is gonna ever bring him back." Mike paused and glanced down the tunnel. Already all signs that Don had ever been there were gone. Once a ninja, always a ninja. "And I know that my brother is alive, and you could bring him back. You just won't." And with that, Mike spun on his heel and headed in the opposite direction that Don had, towards the lair.

Leo sighed and ran a weary hand over his face. "He doesn't understand," he muttered.

Raph shook his head. "Leo, I ain't so sure I do either. But then, nobody really understands you." He shrugged and started following after Mikey. "Let's just go home."

Nodding, Leo still didn't move for a few moments, staring down the long black tunnel that Don had disappeared down. He took a careful step forward and paused again. Listening intently, he heard nothing. Staring, he saw nothing. Leonardo sighed softly and turned around. He quickly caught up to his two remaining brothers, and together they headed back home. The entire trip back, not a word was said.

---

Author's Notes: Sorry that this chapter came rather later than most of my updates do. Hopefully the extra length will make up for its tardiness. There's an epilogue to follow. Thanks for reading!


	8. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Raphael squinted at the bottle being offered, then looked up to the one offering. His face was a study in skepticism.

April sighed good-naturedly. "It's just a beer, Raph. It won't bite you."

With a small frowned he grabbed the beer and took a long slug. It tasted good and went down nice and easy. They both sat on the bar stools in April's kitchen. "Let's not beat around the bush," he said, after taking another gulp. "We're both here to ask the same question." He paused. "So, you heard from him?"

April didn't need to ask who. "No, I haven't. Have you?"

"Not a peep since we sprung him outta Bishop's creepy little dungeon." Raph set his bottle down on the counter in front of him. Rubbing his large thumbs up and down the bottle neck, he sighed. "And I don't think we're gonna hear from him, neither. Not 'til Leo gives the okay."

"Because Leo's clan leader now?"

"Because Leo's clan leader. And 'cause he don't wanna hurt Leo." A bitter smile appeared. "Well, hurt Leo any more than he already has."

April nodded thoughtfully, sipping her beer. She drummed her nails on the counter, and Raph couldn't help but notice the diamond ring glinting on her left hand. It was still a bit weird. Then she turned to face Raph with an appraising stare that unnerved him. "So," she said, "it sounds like you don't want Don dead after all."

For a second Raphael's eyes narrowed in confusion before he realized—Casey. Of course. The stupid bonehead always told everything to his girlfriend. Wait, scratch that. His _fiancée_.

"It was easier wanting him dead when I thought he _was_ dead," Raph admitted after a moment. When instead of responding April only took another sip of beer, he continued, "Don't get me wrong, April. I hated the bastard for a good long time, and I'm still pretty pissed at him. But it's been ten years and, much as it truly pains me to admit this—Mikey was finally right about something."

April raised an eyebrow, eyes filled with silent laughter.

"I know, I know," Raph groaned.

"So what was Mikey right about?"

"The short version? He said Master Splinter is dead, and Donny ain't." Raph picked up his beer and finished it off in one long swallow. "We already lost one family member. Don't make sense to lose another if we don't hafta."

April finished her beer too, though at a somewhat slower pace. She glanced at Raph and smiled. "Hamato Raphael," she said with a hint of admiration in her voice, "sometimes you are a very wise man."

Rolling his eyes, Raphael snorted.

---

Keeping to the shadows, the Black Ghost carefully approached the electronics store. He reached up and adjusted the brightness on the night-vision lens he'd built into his new mask. That had been a stroke of minor genius, because already they were proving useful—the Ghost could clearly see, even from his hiding spot several yards away, that the door to the store was open and several men were inside. His heart started racing at the sight. He'd never liked confrontation, and he despised killing.

Which was why he had built a small arsenal of the least-harmful deterrent weapons ever. Including specially-formulated tear gas pellets. Creeping up close to the store's entrance, the Ghost took out a pellet, set its activation for a five second countdown, and gently rolled it into the store.

In a little over five seconds, the first of the thieves came stumbling out of the store, coughing up a storm and wiping furiously at his eyes. The Ghost tasered him, then the next man, and then the next. As the men lay on the ground helpless, he waited for a few more moments. When no one else came through the doorway, the Ghost knelt down beside the nearest thief and checked his vital signs. Suddenly he heard the sickening _click_ of a gun cocking, followed quickly by a sharp whistling sound and a dull _thunk_.

Startled, the Ghost whirled around, to see a final thief struggling against the wall, trying to free himself from the katana that had sliced through his coat sleeve and held him firmly in place. The thief's gun lay on the ground. The Ghost quickly zapped the man and yanked the katana out. He checked the tear in the sleeve to see if there were wounds, but the katana had been so expertly thrown that not a scratch was present.

The Ghost pocketed the gun, just to be on the safe side, and stood. Turning around, he looked up instinctively. Though the figure on the neighboring rooftop was nothing more than a black silhouette against the moon, mask tails fluttering in the breeze, there was no question who the Ghost's savior was. The Ghost threw the katana back up to its owner, who caught it easily by its handle.

"Just returning the favor," Leonardo called down, completely deadpan. Then he turned away from the roof edge and disappeared from view.

Behind his mask, the Ghost smiled.

---

Michelangelo sat in the living room feeling out of place. It had been so long since he'd been to the lair. It still felt like home, but there was something odd about actually being here. Especially because it was so quiet. Raph had gone off to visit Casey, and Leo had … well, Mike never really inquired into where Leo went these days.

Sighing, he pulled out his laptop. He might as well put this overabundance of quiet solitude to good use and get some writing done. His fingers lovingly ran over the laptop's weathered, chipped casing. The computer was old and probably wouldn't last much longer, but Mikey had never had the heart to toss it out, no matter how outdated it got.

All these years he'd kept it because the computer was the last present Donatello had ever given him—back when the family was together, when Splinter was sick but still alive. As he waited for the ancient machine to boot up, Mike remembered the note Don had written to go along with it:

"_To Hamato Michelangelo, the future world-famous writer. Now you can write from anywhere and everywhere. Love, your fan Don."_

A small smile passed over Mike's face at the memory. The laptop was now over a decade old and ridiculously obsolete, of course, but as the entire hard-drive was built with Don's expert craftsmanship, the machine still ran pretty well. When it finally started, Mike opened an existing file that contained his latest novel. He leaned back, and his hands hovered over the keyboard. Mike closed his eyes and let his mind wander. His hands never moved. Then he opened his eyes again with a frustrated groan.

Writer's block. Well, of course. Just his luck, too.

It would have been a shame, though, to have wasted all that time for the laptop to boot up only to shut it back down. So Mikey signed online to check his email, based on the time-honored principle that one could never check one's email too often. In his inbox appeared the email addresses of the usual suspects. One from the Silver Sentry, one from April, one from Angel. Then Mike's heart skipped a beat as he saw the address of the last sender. Though he hadn't received an email from that address in years, he recognized it immediately.

With trembling hands Mike clicked on the message to open it. His eyes quickly scanned its contents, down to the bottom, where plain as day were the words "Love, Don." He shut his eyes again and swallowed down the lump rising in his throat. Without a doubt, keeping the old laptop had been one of Mike's best decisions _ever_.

---

Author's Notes: Many thanks to those of you who have read this story, and especially to those who took a moment or two to review. Also, thanks for the very kind feedback. I'm glad folks have enjoyed it!


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